


I Come in Peace

by lavenderlotion



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Fluff, Good Parent Sheriff Stilinski, M/M, Post-Season/Series 02, Relationship Reveal, Scent Marking, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Leaves, Stiles Stilinski Leaves Beacon Hills, Stiles Stilinski Leaves the Pack, Stiles Stilinski Returns, Stilinski Family Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2019-10-30 01:42:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17819438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/pseuds/lavenderlotion
Summary: Stiles being gone was hard on both of them. He was home now, and John couldn't help but take in the year of changes. Stiles wasn’t much taller but the way he held himself made him appear to be a whole different person. His shoulders were pushed back instead of drawn in, the shirt he wore didn’t fit as loosely as it once did. His hair was longer, falling halfway down his forehead. His smile was the same, his eyes were the same.“You look great, son,” John started, mind going blank at the harsh black lines on his son’s left wrist. “Is that a tattoo?”





	I Come in Peace

**Author's Note:**

> Written in May of 2017. Found in my WIP folder, cleaned up & posted. Will be backdated in a few weeks.

_ It’s been a year. It’s been eleven and a half months since I stood here _ . 

Stiles fiddled with his key, his fingers shaking too bad to get it properly in the lock. He wasn’t nervous to be home. He missed it, terribly so, and he missed his father even more. Skype and phone calls could only ease the pain of distancing yourself from your loved ones so much. He had been so busy he hadn’t noticed it much, so maybe that's why he felt it so strongly now? He just  _ missed _ his dad. 

Before he could finish fiddling with the lock the door was wrenched open, John Stilinski standing tall on the other side. Stiles’ breath caught, his heart stopped, and his brain just went offline. It wasn’t until he was standing only by the tight grip they were embracing each other with that he realized he was crying. 

“God, fuck Dad, I missed you!” Stiles’ voice hitched, his words lost into his father's chest. He breathed in the smell of home, and something he hadn't realized was missing felt whole again. 

“I missed you a damn lot kid, you’re never leaving for that long again!” John’s grip tightened, slowly stepping back so they were no longer standing in the doorway. “Or, next time you go I’m coming with you.”

It took nearly half an hour for the Stilinski men to peel away from each other and neither commented on how red the other’s eyes were. Stiles being gone was hard on both of them. He was home now, and John couldn't help but take in the year of changes. Stiles wasn’t much taller but the way he held himself made him appear to be a whole different person. His shoulders were pushed back instead of drawn in, the shirt he wore didn’t fit as loosely as it once did. His hair was longer, falling halfway down his forehead. His smile was the same, his eyes were the same. He was Stiles, his son, only...improved?

“You look great, son,” John started, mind going blank at the harsh black lines on his son’s left wrist. “Is that a tattoo?”

Stiles rubbed his neck, blush high on his cheekbones, “Hey, ugh yeah! Don’t be mad?”

“There better be a damn good reason you have those without asking my permission.”

“Oh yeah! Magic! It helps with my magic!” Stiles exclaimed, pulling off his jacket to reveal tattoos splattered up both arms, even one on his right pinky finger. They were mostly abstract shapes and black lines: none of them seemed to really  _ be _ anything. “I, uh, have some more? Did you want to see?”

John nodded, not trusting his voice to not sound mad. He wasn’t mad because his son got a tattoo— _ a lot _ of tattoos—he was mad that his son had never told him. Stiles peeled off his shirt and the first thing he noticed was a sheriff's badge over his son’s heart, with a sparrow in flight beside it. He felt his eyes tear up again. 

“So, these two aren’t for magic. But they remind me why I fight, why I train. They remind to protect those I love.” Stiles was now crying too. Who knew reunions could be so damn emotionally exhausting?

It was another few hours before either of them made it from the living room. Stiles told him everything that had happened, and even though John already knew most of the adventures his son had gotten up to, it was an entirely different experience when he pointed out scars from the fights, or why he had this or that tattoo. The best was when he activated one and it glowed white against his skin, mirroring Stiles’ eyes. His son was still his Stiles, yes, but now he was powerful and  _ sure _ in himself. 

 

The next morning, Stiles woke to the smell of bacon and his bed.  _ His freaking bed _ . He honestly could not remember the last night he had spent in a bed. His year away was amazing, His Grandma was an excellent magic teacher, despite her unusual methods of sending him into the wilderness for days at a time. He rolled over and forced himself awake, beginning his day with stretching. 

It was something he only started doing in the last six months, but it was pretty great. Loosening himself before and after sleep made running for your life at any given moment easier. Stay lean, stay lithe, stay flexible. It was a mantra he had adopted right after leaving. At the time, he meant flexible to change, but lately the literal definition seemed to play an important role in his life. 

He made his way downstairs to a feast. Pancakes, eggs, toast, bacon, hash browns, french toast and an unusual amount of fresh fruit was laid out on their dining room table. In fact, it almost took up the entirety of the small table.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Stiles said as he grabbed himself coffee. God, being home was already amazing! 

“I wanted to.”

“Glad you did!” Stiles beamed at his father. 

They ate in relative silence, his dad asking about the tattoos along his legs that he hadn’t seen the night before. The conversation was easy, comfortable, familiar. They talked like he had never left, only he had. He was strong now, and his dad no longer looked at him like he was something that could break. 

He only hoped the pack would too.

“Hey what’s that face about? It’s too early for negativity.” John scolded over a mouthful of bacon. Four pieces had already floated off his plate to his son’s, and dammit, he was going to get his bacon!

“Just thinking about the pack. I’m not really sure I want to see them, but I know I have to,” Stiles muttered, eyes trained on his breakfast. “It...wasn’t good before I left. They thought I was weak. Gran taught me I wasn’t. Even before the magic. She got me to believe in myself before she taught me anything, so I  _ know _ I have value. But Dad, they made me doubt myself. So much. They never believed in me.” He took another deep breath, touching his inner wrist. The tattoo there was for calm, and while he rarely used it, the gesture of tapping it was a sort of placebo effect. “It can’t be like that. They need to see me as an equal.”

“I’m sure they will.”

Maybe.

“How would you feel about me maybe, possible dating someone? Like, okay, say I’ve been dating someone for seven months, right, okay? And they’re the only one I’ve kept contact with. It’s nice, they're nice, and I need you to give them, to give me, a chance.” Stiles’ stupid lack of brain-to-mouth-filter. Stupid damn thing. At least it was a good change of topic. 

“Who is this they?” John asked, brows furrowing together. This was the first he was hearing of this. As far as he knew, Stiles wasn’t even directly talking to Scott.

“Well, oh, yeah. Funny right? That’s sort of the thing? Like, don’t tell me it’s a bad idea, okay? I know enough, now anyway. I’m sure about them,” Stiles huffed with a frown. 

“Son, don’t get defensive. Tell me who  _ they _ are? It doesn’t matter to me,  _ either way _ .” Damn, real subtle John. He shook his head to himself, but smiled when Stiles beamed at him. Definitely the right thing to say.

“Well, it’s a he. And, oh god, okay Stiles you got this, it’s an older he.” Stiles took his bottom lip between his teeth and began worrying at it. Shit, this was  _ way  _ harder than he thought. He chanced a look up and his dad was just staring, waiting for him to finish. That bastard was going to make him confess. Stiles  _ knew _ that face, “Uh, okay yeah, it’s Peter? Yeah. Peter Hale.”

“Not what I was expecting, kid. I want him here for dinner, and soon. He needs to know I have a pretty large stash of wolfsbane bullets.” John just laughed as his son groaned and dropped his head into his hands. His son, his only son, was dating an older werewolf man. “And he better not do  _ anything _ before your eighteen. I will arrest your boyfriend.”

John could be mad, he could question it, try to break it up. But he had  _ just  _ gotten his son back. And if there was one thing he never had to worry about Stiles, it was the people he chose to let into his heart. 

* * *

Three knocks rang out in Derek’s loft. The pack was there—all of them—for ‘mandatory pack bonding’ (MPB) time. Every second Friday they huddled around Derek’s new TV with greasy food for a ridiculous movie. Basically, MPB was just an excuse for the whole pack to cuddle with each other. The collectively looked around. Everyone was there and accounted for. No one knew who was behind the door. Well that was until Peter made his way from the kitchen giving them all a very judgmental gaze.

The wolves in the room collectively sniffed and strained their hearing, but they couldn’t smell or hear anything. If another series of knocks hadn’t rung out they would’ve sworn there was no one there. That is, until, a familiar voice muttered “Oh for fuck’s sake, I’ll let my damn self in!” before the door violently ripped open to the side, a resounding bang echoing around the room.

The pack jumped up in alarm, shock written over their faces as Stiles scent began to filter into the room, his heartbeat filling in the room’s silence. No one moved, not even Stiles, who just stood in the doorway staring at them all. It was strange, to see them again, after so long. Frankly, he wasn't really pack—not anymore. Not after so much time. The real question though, was he ever really pack? Still, he had missed them, even Jackson though who was holding Lydia behind her as if she was somehow the weaker of the two. 

Surprising no one in the pack, it was Peter who spoke first, “Please, enter.” Even if Stiles was pack, after so long away it was polite to abide by proper pack adequate. 

A giant grin took over the blankness that had been on Stiles’ face before he entered the building. The pack, however, was surprised when Stiles practically launched himself at the older werewolf. Stiles held onto Peter like a koala, both arms and legs wrapped impossibly tightly around the man and Peter held him back equally tightly. Stiles barked out a laugh when Peter nudged his neck to the side, scenting and marking him all at once.

It was the laugh that got through to the pack. Stiles was  _ here _ . They all looked at each other, question evident in their faces as the two held onto each other. The smell of tears was clear to the other wolves, although Stiles was still laughing and smelt of only joy. 

“God, I missed your furry ass!” Stiles singsonged after he let his legs drop, leaning back enough to look Peter in the eyes. He wasn’t entirely surprised to see them glowing blue, he knew his were probably white. 

“Dog jokes already, huh?” Peter shot back, letting his eyes flicker back to their human state as Stiles’ did the same. Peter was aware of how everyone was watching, but he didn’t care. The scent of Stiles was overwhelming him, the smell of a storm so much stronger than it had ever been. His fingers brushed the younger man’s cheek, as if proving to himself that he was real, that he was really here with him. 

“Yeah, I’m here.” 

They stared at each other for another moment. Somehow casual texting had become every minute of the day texting which became phone calls which became nightly phone calls and Skype calls which then became Skype dates around the four-month mark. They had been officially dating for seven months, and hadn’t seen each other in person once. They worked through, this wolf and this spark. 

“Can someone explain what the hell is going on!” Derek, the ever annoying pessimist, growled. 

“Yeah, Stiles, how are you even here!” Scott asked pulling his best kicked puppy look.

Stiles let his hand trail down Peter’s neck, along his arms, before taking the other man’s hands in his. Peter squeezed them for reassurance. He turned to the pack and gave them what he thought was a tentative and hopefully reassuring smile, “I’m back?”

Before Stiles could blink Lydia was standing in front of him,  _ pissed _ , and before he could even say hi his cheek exploded in pain from where she had slapped him. “You  _ ever _ worry me like that again, I will kill you  _ myself! _ ” And then she was hugging him, almost as tightly as Peter had with his extra strength, and he could do nothing back hug her back. 

“Sorry Lyd’s. I’m sorry.” It was then that the pack started to move closer, though their eyes kept flickering between the two hugging and Peter who was standing just slightly behind them. “I had to.”

“Oh my god dumb ass,  _ I know that _ !” She said into his neck, then proceed to step back  _ and punch _ him in the jaw. “That is for thinking I wouldn’t understand!” 

“Okay, one: OW! Two: good left hook, your stance is great. Three: who’s training you?” Stiles laughed, cupping his jaw as it ached and touched the tattoo in the crook of his right elbow. It flashed white as the pain ebbed away into nothing. 

“Oh shit!” Erica gasped as she saw the tattoo flash, rushing closer to the group of three. She hesitated for just a second before bending forward to Stiles’ arm to get a closer look. She looked up and met his gaze, breathing in before asking, “What are these, Batman?”

“Magic,” he whispered to her, letting his eyes flash and watching as hers did the same in reflex. Not a threat, an acknowledgement. “This one is kinda like your guy’s pain drain, only instead of taking it, from myself, into myself, wait that wouldn’t work anyway? Like if I was in pain, I couldn’t pull the pain into myself? That isn’t how pain drain works? Then why did I always think it was pain drain?  _ DUDE! _ ” Erica just laughed when as he spoke, clearly talking to himself and running out of breath in the process, “Well, I have no idea what it is! Just gets rid of my pain! Only works on small things though, and can’t heal, which is pretty lame.”

“Can someone explain what the hell Stilinski is doing here?” Jackson roared, coming up to stand way to close behind Lydia. If the tightness of Lydia’s lips was anything to go by, it wasn’t a welcomed act. His eyes flashed in a challenge, claws dropping at this ‘threat’.

Stiles just clicked his tongue and walked towards Scott, “Hey buddy! Where’s my hug!” 

The next second he was being hoisted into the air and spun around, him and Scott laughing together. Yep, they were still good. Before he pulled back though, Stiles whispered in his ear, “Control your beta before I have to do something I don’t want to do.”

Confusion flashed through Scott’s eye for a second before he acted. He never did question Stiles, and this familiar stranger was still his best friend. “Jackson, stand down.”

“OH DUDE! Sick Alpha voice!” Stiles complemented, fist bumping Scott who just smiled back. The tension was slowly leaving the room, though it seemed half its occupants still had no idea what the hell was going on. 

“Okay bro, fill me in! Where the hell did you go! And look at you!” Scott exclaimed, leading them towards the dining room table where everyone followed. 

“And how’d you get hot?” Cora asked. Her eyebrows were drawn in confusion, and she was still glancing between her Uncle who wouldn’t leave Stiles’ side, and the young man himself.

“Hey Cor, looking good yourself!” Stiles’ winked, lip pulling up in a smirk. 

“Who even  _ are _ you?” Isaac squeaked from behind Boyd.

“Stiles Stilinski, Beacon Hills resident Spark, and hopeful member of the McCall pack?”

“Not even a question bro, though what’s a spark?” Scott asked, sitting at the table and tilting his head to the side.

“Oh! Me! It’s actua—” 

“We’re just going to let him in here! Into my home? Without even  _ questioning _ him!” Derek growled, shifting into his full beta shift. Suddenly there was a hand on Stiles’ back, and he knew it was Peter. “He could be  _ dangerous _ !”

“Derek,” Peter threatened, moving to stand in front of Stiles who just raised an eyebrow at him like,  _ really dude _ , before he stepped back again. 

“I’m not here to hurt anyone. I come in peace. Peter said it was pack night, invited me over? Maybe it wasn’t the best idea seeing you all at once, but we figured it would be easier?” 

“Oh it’s  _ we _ now,” Cora huffed from her chair, Stiles just gave her a blinding smile.

“If you sit, I’ll answer any questions all of you have?” Stiles spoke calmly, sitting in a chair slowly and flicking his eyes to Scott. 

“Derek, sit,” Scott instructed, and Derek did, but he didn’t lose his shift. 

Stiles looked around the table and his first thought was, what a weird bunch of supernatural creatures. 

Then he started the story.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are much appreciated!  
> [my dreamwidth](https://lavenderlotion.dreamwidth.org/) and my [my tumblr](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)


End file.
